There’s a nightmare in the closet
And a monster down the hall.
A bell is tolling slowly,
Counting down to night’s sweet fall.
There’s a thumping in the floorboards,
And a pumping in the wall,
The moon’s great eye is watching,
As the werewolf makes his call.
There’s a screaming in the distance,
And death, but that’s not all,
Of Poe’s more morbid musings.
Though they scare us, they enthrall.